


Know You Like It Sweet (Give You Something Good to Celebrate)

by sweeterthankarma



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Isak Valtersen, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-birthday sex, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Smut and Fluff and Humor, Top Even Bech Næsheim, oh well just ignore the logistics of it lol, set between season 3 and season 4, though this doesn't fit within the canon timeline at all, well actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25321384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: “So, I have this cake and you…all to myself. You know, if I’m honest, I don’t know which one I want more.”Isak lowers his hands up to play with the collar of Even’s shirt, more formal than what he usually wears— and a rush of affection floods through him when he realizes he’s dressed up for him.“Yeah, I think I want the cake first,” Isak decides, obviously kidding as his eyes stay closed, his head tipped back, and his words are just a little breathy. “Definitely the cake.”
Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen
Comments: 14
Kudos: 84





	Know You Like It Sweet (Give You Something Good to Celebrate)

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned in the tags, this doesn't fit the canon timeline considering that Isak still lives in the kollektivet here; once I started writing and inspiration struck, I just couldn't stop, logistics be damned! Besides, I couldn't cut out the humor that Eskild brought to this lol. You'll see! 👀
> 
> Title comes from the song "Birthday" by Katy Perry.

On June 20th, sometime between 19:00 and 20:00, Even comes to the kollevtiv with a giant, four tiered, overly frosted vanilla cake with more sprinkles, chocolate chips, and whipped cream loaded on top of it than Isak thinks should be legally allowed. He says such a sentiment aloud to Linn, who sits on the couch and eyes the cake with vague interest before getting up and leaving the two boys alone, especially considering the fact that Isak immediately starts kissing Even upon his arrival, seeming to forget that she’s even in the room.

He unwraps the cake from its packaging all the while he keeps his mouth on Even’s, his fumbling hands ending up covered in sugar and mini nonpareils. When he brings them up to Even’s cheeks, framing his face in his hands, Even just licks the sugar away, uncaring, and beams down at Isak’s admittedly lovesick gaze. 

It’s a dangerous thing that he does next, reeling Isak’s breath away with an audible, choked gasp: he takes Isak’s fingers into his mouth and sucks the remaining sweetness off, twirling his tongue around his fingertips in a way that makes Isak stiffen in his pants and press himself closer to his boyfriend.

Even guides Isak’s fingers out of his mouth with a careful hand on his wrist, and it’s not even fair how he looks at Isak next— like he hasn’t even done anything at all. Like he’s purely innocent and not responsible for suddenly redirecting all of Isak’s thought processes onto him and only him.

“Wanna dig in?” he asks, and Isak doesn’t know how to respond. He stands a little dumbstruck, waiting for his body to catch up with his mind, but then decides against it. He reaches for a napkin, wiping the excess sugar off of Even’s face, and then makes a point of pressing himself flush against him, even more so than before, so close there’s no way he can’t feel his boner, half-hard and not going away anytime soon.

“You just got here two minutes ago and look what you’re doing to me,” Isak mutters, brushing his lips against Even’s in a ghost of a kiss. 

“Happy birthday,” Even replies with a quirk of his eyebrows, and _that_ makes Isak officially and completely forget about anything and everything else except him. Them. Preferably, in a locked room down the hall on a bed and without any interruptions whatsoever.

“Not my birthday yet,” he reminds him. “But thank you.”

Isak’s always a tease, though. It’s impossible for him to look at Even and not want more, so when he speaks again, breaking away from another kiss, his voice is practically a purr.

“So, I have this cake and you…all to myself. You know, if I’m honest, I don’t know which one I want more.”

Isak lowers his hands up to play with the collar of Even’s shirt, more formal than what he usually wears— and a rush of affection floods through him when he realizes he’s dressed up for him.

Even smirks and squeezes Isak’s hips, palming the space on both sides of his waist where his shirt overlaps his jeans, and then he dips his head down to kiss his lips briefly, just for a second. He doesn’t stay there for long, moving to his cheek, his jaw, to the hollow of his neck where he ends up lingering, and he makes sure to be slow, tantalizing, teasing. It’s Isak’s birthday. Well, _almost_ his birthday. He deserves a present— no, _all_ the presents. 

“Yeah, I think I want the cake first,” Isak decides, obviously kidding as his eyes stay closed, his head tipped back, and his words are just a little breathy. “Definitely the cake.”

Even chuckles, the sound low and hearty, and it makes Isak’s stomach flip at the same time Even tugs him even closer. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you do.”

They stay like that for a minute: Isak clutching onto Even, Even’s lips sucking a bruise on his throat that’ll bloom a pretty purple-pinkish later. Isak won’t complain, even when he has to borrow Noora’s makeup to cover it up and deal with her roaming, impressed gaze when she realizes what he’s asking for. It’s worth it, the way that Even’s lips feel on him, the way that he knows he’ll feel them in so many other places so soon.

“Even?” Isak asks, voice barely above a murmur.

“Yeah?” 

“Take me to bed?” 

Isak can feel Even’s grin pressing against his skin.

“Whatever you want, birthday king,” he replies, and he’s quick to pick Isak up into his arms and swoop him around, carrying him bridal style as he leads them in the direction of Isak’s bedroom.

“Oh my god,” Isak whines, laughing as he buries his head into his shoulder. “Stop.”

“You started it,” Even quips, opening and closing the door with his foot, deft and familiar with this. It’s not their first time, after all, not even close to it.

“How so?”

“You think this day is all about you, that the world should stop everything to celebrate you,” Even chides, but his teasing isn’t real, it’s filled with love, proven when he adds, “and you’re damn right it is.”

“Tomorrow,” Isak reminds him as Even settles him down onto the bed rather unceremoniously, yet still careful to make sure his head hits the pillows and doesn’t even come close to hitting the headboard. He pulls his own shirt off as soon as he’s out of Even’s arms, already working on his belt buckle by the time Even’s own shirt is removed. 

“Nope, every day,” Even says matter-of-factly once he’s stripped down to just his underwear and socks, and he pulls a deep sigh out of Isak when he moves down to lay atop him, his crotch grinding against Isak’s, fulfilling the friction that he’s been craving for what already feels like forever. 

“Every day should be about you,” Even concludes, and the sweetness of his words is a sharp contrast between the already filthy way he grinds his hips. He wastes no time already, obediently offering Isak exactly what he wants, and Isak moans a little again before reaching up and around his neck, circling his arms around Even’s head and urging him down for a searing kiss.

“What do you want?” Even asks after they’ve rolled around the bed a few times, both fighting for control even as they’re more than happy to give it up for the other. Isak is simplistic, blunt and immediate when he replies, “you.”

“You have me,” Even responds, and something about his words and the way that his eyes don’t leave Isak’s for even a second sends a shiver through Isak’s entire body. Even must notice it because he rests a gentle hand on his bare chest, drawing circular strokes across his skin before asking again, “how do you want me?”

Isak smiles, toothy and wide as he gives Even an expectant grin. “Come here.”

He pushes himself back enough to lean against the wall— he really needs to invest in buying a headboard, but he’s thinking of moving out and living at Even’s soon, anyway. He pulls Even along with him, his hands on either side of his middle and urging him up, closer, until Even takes the hint and settles himself forward, almost atop Even, so that his cock is right in front of his face. 

Isak sizes him up with a look that makes Even feel like he could come from that alone, and then Isak feels him through his underwear with what starts with gentle prodding and turns into full on stroking.

“Get out of these,” he mutters, pulling on the waistband until Even springs free, already hard and pulsating. Even goes to move aside, pull his left leg away from where it had rested so that he can remove his briefs altogether, but Isak stops him, guiding his shaft into his mouth before he can get very far. Even stops, lets out a soft groan and lets Isak take him in deep, lowering his boxers as much as he can. 

“I’m supposed to be…” Even starts, then trails off when Isak speeds up, taking him in so far that his tip reaches the back of his throat— god, what a trooper he is. Even’s hands tangle in his hair but it proves to be an unsteady position, especially when Isak’s tongue flattens against the underside of his cock all the while he pumps him in and out of his mouth. 

Even reaches out aimlessly at the wall, palms flat to keep himself in his position. Only when Isak pops his mouth off his cock with an obscene, yet satisfying sound, does Even get the breath to finish his train of thought and say, “I’m supposed to be the one giving you all of the attention. I’m supposed to be pleasing you.”

“You are,” Isak says, and he’s right. It’s downright beautiful to have Even like this, gorgeous and his for the taking. He looks up to meet Even’s eyes, glinting and golden under the low lighting his lamp provides, and Isak swears he’s never seen a more gorgeous sight.

“If you insist,” Even says, because he really can’t argue with that. He decides to lean back a bit, his fingertips wandering without his sight to aid him as he reaches for Isak’s cock. He earns a gasp from Isak when he reaches it, his own hand wrapping around it and starting a rhythm from low at the base, but he doesn’t get too far like this. Isak is dutiful, hasn’t pulled away from Even’s cock in minutes, and Even could let him go on all night if he weren’t too desperate to please him himself, to feel him throbbing and taste him on his tongue. 

The next time Isak pulls away to take a breath, Even stops him from going back for more with a gentle hand on his cheekbone. Isak, never a quitter, of course takes this as an opportunity to practically bite Even’s index finger and invite it into his mouth, mimicking what he had been doing before, and Even groans, both out of irritation and enjoyment.

“You’re impossible, don’t you see I’m trying to be the one to fuck _you_ here?” he laughs, and Isak’s eyebrows shoot up at that while he lets Even’s saliva-drenched finger go.

“Isn’t that what’s happening?” he counters, and Even answers him with a kiss, openmouthed and sloppy, tasting his own precum on Isak’s lips.

“You’re so sexy,” he tells him because he is, and then it’s finally his turn to rid them both of their boxers— Even’s hung around his thighs the whole time he worked to remove Isak’s and honestly, he knows he must look like an idiot because of it. But once he’s done shimmying them both out of their remaining clothes and crawling across the bed to get his head back up to the pillows, Isak looks at him with nothing but longing and lust and Even forgets the joke he was going to make about how he moves like a crab. 

Even holds Isak tight, wraps an arm around his neck and kisses him so hard he sees stars, feels an ache in his lower abdomen, a twinge of adoration that’s more than he felt when Isak had his dick in his mouth. He loves this boy with everything in him; he’s never felt love like this before. He knows, a hundred percent, no doubt, absolutely, that he’ll never feel love like this again. Only Isak, he thinks. Only Isak is all he wants. The sex is great, but Even thinks—no, he knows— that he could go his entire life only kissing Isak and be fine. It’d be nearly impossible and maybe render him insane, but all he really needs is Isak by his side, loving him in every way he can, in the best way. He’s perfect, he really is.

But back to the topic of sex: god, is it great, Even thinks, and thank god he doesn’t have to give it up, because when Isak reaches for his butt and squeezes, pinches, and then urges his hand downward, seeking, Even’s entire body shakes in a delicious kind of way, familiar and so needed. Only Isak can bring him alive like this. 

Even pulls away, causing Isak’s hand to retreat, only because he has a better idea. He flips Even over onto his hands and knees with a simple command, a gruff comment and vague hand motion that Isak knows well by now, and he follows his suggestions well, always into them. He settles his chest down onto the bed, his ass propped up into the air, and Jesus, Even doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything sexier.

Every nerve in Isak’s body feels like it’s firing, fully functioning, his blood rushing in his veins thanks to pure adrenaline. He balls his fists around his pillows, already reeling in anticipation of what Even will do, and he surprises him when he touches his cock instead of his hole first.

Even lays on his side, giving Isak a few slow strokes to start him off— like he needs it; he’s pretty sure he could take Even inside of him right now without any preparation, that’s how turned on he is. He appreciates it, though, his head dropping forward so that his cheek hits the mattress and he lets out a soft sigh. 

“Baby,” Even says at nothing at all— or rather, at _Isak,_ and to him, Isak is _everything—_ and then he moves around behind Isak and prods him open with restrained hands, always careful. He bends to lick Isak’s hole, earning a louder sigh in return, and he can’t help but grin at the sound. It distracts him for a moment, makes him become caught up in his love and how much of it that he has fo Isak, but then he focuses, looks at the sight before him, jaw-dropping and mouth-watering in every way, and he teases a finger along Isak’s hole, down his crack and to his balls. He grasps them loosely while pressing feverish kisses to Isak’s lower cheeks, occasionally using just the tiniest brush of teeth to earn a whine and a _“yes, baby”_ from Isak. 

It’s practically comical, the way that someone knocks on the door just when Even is about to push his finger all the way into Isak’s hole. 

“Busy!” Even calls out before Isak can try to, because they’ve been through this before and Isak’s voice is always throaty during sex, a dead giveaway. Honestly, he’s not much better off usually, especially if Isak has been inside of him, but he’s at an advantage right now given the fact that there isn’t a hand around his balls and a finger pressed into his ass.

“When are we gonna dive into that beautiful cake on the counter?” Eskild asks, completely oblivious. He starts to sing something in English, something Even is pretty sure is a Rihanna song about cake, and it takes all of Even and Isak’s strength to not lose it on the spot.

Even presses his cheek against Isak’s ass, takes his hand that had been on Isak’s balls away so that he can cover his mouth with the back of his wrist, doing everything in his power to not make a sound. Isak does the same, but it’s hard when Even’s finger is still in him, just a little bit, barely filling him but still making him feel _so_ much and now Even’s warm breath is radiating against his skin, making him feel even more even when he really needs to get it together.

“You locked the door, right?” Even asks, his voice a hiss as to hopefully not be deciphered by Eskild, and Isak nods feverishly. 

“Thank God!”

“Guys!” Eskild says, his voice louder this time. “Time for cake?”

Isak muffles his laughter with the pillow. 

“Yeah, uh, soon!” Even replies. “In a little bit! We’re, uh…doing homework!”

“Uh-huh,” Eskild says, like he doesn’t believe them. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided to start a diet. We can't have that in this house!”

“Nope,” Isak chimes in, trying to be hopeful. Even gives him a panicked look, like he thinks he’ll blow their cover, and Isak waves a dismissive hand at him, as if to say that he’s got this. “Just working on a project!”

Eskild is quiet for a moment; they think maybe he’s left them alone finally, but just before Isak can sigh of relief _and_ from the feeling of Even’s finger moving just barely inside of him, he speaks again. 

“What class?” he asks, and both Isak and Even roll their eyes at the same time. Eskild never asks them about school, so why is he asking now?

“Uh…” Isak starts again, “we’re making a video! Even’s project for film class!” 

“Ah, fun,” Eskild comments. “Can I be in it?”

“Sure!” Even says, “but later! We’re doing a scene about...our relationship right now.”

Isak has to cover his mouth with the duvet again. 

Eskild says something Even can’t make out but that seems to do the trick, if the sound of his footsteps retreating on the wooden floor is any indicator. Both Even and Isak heave loud sounds of relief, and Even pulls his finger out of Isak’s ass slowly, just because he has to stop for a minute. He can’t believe this boy. 

Isak drops down onto his stomach, legs twisting sideways as he lays down, and Even does the same, giving him a pointed look before repeating his words.

“Making a video?!” 

Isak claps a hand over his forehead and groans. “I don’t know, it was the first thing that came to mind.”

“More like making a porno,” Even retorts, then makes them both burst into laughter by repeating Eskild’s singing: _“cake, cake, cake, cake, cake, cake.”_

Isak’s cheeks puff out, stained pink from laughter and arousal.

 _“Wanna put your name on it,”_ he joins in, clearly knowing the lyrics, and somehow it makes Even laugh even harder _and_ turns him on even more.

“I _will_ put my name on it,” he promises, suckling a kiss against the skin behind Isak’s ear, “but I’m also not going to let you live this down.”

Isak seems to have no problem with this. 

“Just kiss me, would you?”

His eyes are dark, clouded and intense, and Even clambers atop him to see them up close, just before he kisses him as deeply as he possibly can.

It moves from deep and searing to tender, with Isak simply holding his mouth against Even’s for a moment. But then just as quickly as they had both calmed down, Isak’s movements become desperate, his fingertips sliding across Even’s jaw, his collarbone, down his chest to briefly pinch his nipples. Even flinches, loving the blend of touches that Isak gives him, and then he settles his frame back into the groove of Isak’s body, back into a rhythm of subtle grinding. Their dicks bump together just slightly, barely a brush of skin but enough to make Even let out a low curse, and a laugh bubbles up from Isak when it happens. 

Even moves down his body slow, showering him with kisses on every bit of skin he can reach even as he’s desperate to settle between the apex of his thighs, to take his dick into his mouth. He can hardly think about anything else, if he’s honest. Already, he’s forgotten about Eskild and cake and all the cake related innuendos that they’ll remember and laugh over later in the night— and hopefully, years and decades down the road, too.

“Do you even know…” Even starts once he’s in between Isak’s thighs, one hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, “just how gorgeous you are?” 

He says it so quietly that it's almost a whisper, and Isak doesn’t say anything but just look at him, really look at him. His curved eyebrows, his sharp jawline, his soft lips that he runs his tongue across, over and over as his clear, kind eyes stay on Isak’s body, admiring him at the same time Isak admires him back.

Isak drinks in the sight of him: the birth mark next to the tiny scar on his cheek, the one he only ever sees when they’re face to face, so close they’re nearly breathing the same air. Isak stays quiet, and he worries for a second that Even might think he’s too overwhelmed— in a bad way, not like the good kind that Even usually makes him, and is usually so proud and eager to make him. But Even knows him too well, can read his face and his expression and all his body language as easy as he can read his favorite novels. He knows that Isak is okay, that he’s alive, with every breath and every pulse of his heart, with Even’s touch on my body. Even knows this. He feels the same. 

“No,” Isak finally replies, sentiment heady in his voice. _“You're_ gorgeous.”

Even snickers, bends to place a ghost of a kiss onto the tip of his cock. 

“It’s not about me,” he says, repeating his earlier statement. “Tonight’s all about you, _mitt liv._ Only you.”

“Never just me,” Isak insists, and Even shrugs in defeat at this.

“Okay, us,” he concedes. “Now, can I suck your cock, _mitt liv?”_

It’s such a juxtaposition of affection and sexuality and politeness with brashness, all coming from Even in a way that’s just so _him._ Isak thinks he could almost lose his mind over it all, over how perfect Even is, how sexy, how good. Always good, always good to him.

“Please,” Isak practically pleads, and that’s all the talking they do for a while.

Even is glorious as he takes Isak into his mouth, makes a scene of pushing him deep inside and then pulling out with a string of silver saliva stretching and then breaking from his tongue and Isak’s cock. He’s messy and sloppy and they’re definitely going to have to change the bedding after this, but Isak couldn’t care less. He moans with every pump of Even’s hand around the base of his cock, every thrust of his mouth going down and up so quick and so perfectly, but then just when it starts to get good, like _really_ good, Even stops. He’s so smooth, pushing Isak back a bit until he’s rolled a little, his hole exposed again, and Even doesn’t have to ask permission to lick him there. Isak’s begging moans are enough of an indicator of what he wants, and it’s exactly this.

Even inserts his finger again, and Isak is so tight yet so needy. He curses, searching the room, and he’s the one to groan this time, though not of pleasure. 

“Sorry, my love,” he says, and he leaves Isak feeling bare for just a few moments to go grab the lube that had been sitting atop the dresser this entire time, so close yet just out of reach. He doesn’t know why or how they always forget about it.

“Come back,” Isak insists, reaching out for Even with grabby hands even as he resumes his position on his hands and knees. He keeps his chest up this time, spreads his legs more as if to invite Even to hurry up with it, and Even does— not without taking his sweet time and kissing all the way from Isak’s lips to his tailbone, though. 

Isak can feel himself working up a sweat already, pushing back into Even’s touch as soon as he places one hand on his lower back, the other back at his hole. He eases his finger inside again, pushing slow and sure, knowing what Isak needs. He’s good at taking penetration, better than Even is, more accommodating to size and width and honestly whatever Even offers him. He always wants him, is the thing, and so even if it burns or stings, he likes it because it’s Even.

It really doesn’t bother him, though. He associates the mild pain with pleasure, with foreplay and getting ready for more that will feel even better, and besides, the lube helps. He feels Even push another finger inside of him, then another, and he gasps, bucking back against him.

“You’re perfect,” Even says, “so perfect,” and that just makes Isak grow even more desperate, want even more.

“Fuck me,” he demands, a little rough around the edges, greedy in the way that they both like, but there’s love in everything he says, in every way he moves. His toes curl just as Even feels him tighten around him, and fuck, it’s so sexy that Even thinks he could come from the feeling on his fingers alone. Not to mention the sight, the gloriousness of Isak ready and gaping and desiring him, only him, more than anything or anyone else in the word. 

Even uses one hand to roll the condom on, rushing through the motions though he still stops to thoroughly check for accuracy and safety when he’s got it on. Then he’s holding onto Isak’s waist, his fingers removed from his hole and replaced with his cock, hard and testing as he pries inward, and Isak opens up and takes him. 

Even starts slow as he always does, making sure Isak can adjust well enough. He reaches back with one hand, grips Even’s in his and intertwines their fingers; Even bends to kiss his knuckles, the space between his index finger and thumb, his wrist, any part of him that he can reach. Isak shakes a little, reeling, and after a few moments he lurches back to take Even in deeper, muttering a curse when he does so. 

“I’m ready,” he tells Even like it wasn’t already obvious, and then all inhibitions are lost because Isak is moving in time with Even, hips bumping almost sporadically as they both grow urgent, and Isak doesn’t think anything’s ever felt better, tasted more sweet. Screw the cake outside, probably already half eaten by Eskild at this point. This is the best present Isak could ever ask for, and he’s lucky because he gets it year round, just about any and every time that he wants it.

Even moves so quick, so forcefully that his dick slips out for a minute, causing a groan to leave both his and Isak’s mouth. The break steadies them both though, recalibrates them, and when Even starts again, he controls the thrusts, more calculated and controlled. He strokes in and up, feels himself hitting Isak just where it feels the best, and his own cock pulses and throbs at the sensation of Isak around him. It’s perfect. He’s perfect.

Isak’s dick throbs below him so he drops to his elbows so that he has enough strength to reach for it, pumping it roughly. It’s already damp, sticky from Even’s saliva and his own precum, and obscene sounds fill the room when he jerks himself off, paired with the sound of Even pushing into him. It’s rhythmic, loud enough that Isak prays Eskild or Linn can’t hear, and every now and then the bed squeaks, adding to the erotic energy of it all. It’s dirty, so dirty that they very well _could_ be filming a porno like Isak has accidentally almost implied, and yet, Isak’s never felt more loved. 

Even comes into him, hot and thick, and halfway through his orgasm Isak suggests he pull out so he can taste him himself. 

“No, I wanna make you come,” Even says, continuing his thrusts though they’re not so well timed anymore. Isak loses his will to argue, simply because Even’s reaching him in that place that feels so good again and he’s close to babbling, something about how he wants to taste him later, wants to fuck him all night long, never wants to stop, wants to have birthday sex again tomorrow on his actual birthday.

“Of course,” Even promises, and Isak has no idea how anything that he said was coherent. Even gets him, though. Even always seems to get him. 

“Now come, baby, come for me,” Even encourages him, and Isak feels his mouth on his back, close to his shoulders because Even’s so tall and so good at multitasking; his thrusts don’t waver, not even for a second, not even when he bites a little onto Isak’s pale, burning skin that feels like it’s on fire. 

That’s it, that’s what does it, that’s what makes Isak feel like he’s falling apart at the seams. He comes, warm fluids covering his palm as he strokes himself off, and the combination of stroking both in front and behind of his body sends him into overdrive, his vision blurring a bit as he buries his face into the pillows. He has a brief thought that he wished they’d done this in a different way so that he could see Even’s face, but he can’t seem to think of anything else after that, feeling Even still surging into him.

“Ride it out, baby, you’re beautiful,” Even coaxes, and Isak thinks he could die from euphoria alone. He really doesn’t know how anyone could think that anything like this could be wrong. This is the purest love, the purest emotion he’s ever felt, the best thing he knows. Even is everything. Even makes him feel everything. Even has given him everything, in every way, every bit of devotion and trust and confidence and physicality in ways that he’s never even dreamt could exist, much less that he could feel for himself and get to keep. 

Even pulls out only when Isak tells him to, when he’s finally stopped coming and feels like his knees are going to give out if he doesn’t lay down. Even joins him, lays beside him and kisses him until he can’t breathe again, until he swears that he could find orgasm again in Even’s mouth and nothing else. Over and over, maybe— no, probably; no, _definitely—_ if only they could stay in this bed forever.

“Happy birthday, Isak,” Even says. He leans forward until his forehead rests against Isak’s, both sultry with sweat but uncaring. 

“It’s not even officially my birthday yet,” Isak responds, “but this is already the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

Even blushes at this, honored. They stay like that for a while, both naked and intertwined, all bodies and heat and distant need combined with peaceful affinity.

Finally, Even moves a bit, giving Isak a look. His lips curve up into a teasing smile as he says, “it might get worse when we inevitably leave the bedroom and find out Eskild heard us and never quits making cake jokes.”

Isak shoves him away, laughing all the same.

“What?!” Even says, “I’m right!”

He is. 

Still, it’s Isak’s best birthday ever. Best cake ever, too— double entendre intended.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, let me know! Comments and kudos make my day. Come say hi and talk about Skam with me in the comments or at my Tumblr blog [here!](https://sweeterthankarma.tumblr.com/)


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